


Like Chocolate

by moonrise31



Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [23]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, not really angst, ot9 mentions of course, think fancy mv but only the aesthetics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22248532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrise31/pseuds/moonrise31
Summary: In which Mina returns to Seoul and finds out that while some things have changed (Nayeon and Sana becoming NayeonandSana), some things have not (Jihyo preferring the string that ties her with Mina to remain thrumming with tension, even at the prospect of the imminent snap).
Relationships: Im Nayeon/Minatozaki Sana, Myoui Mina/Park Jisoo | Jihyo
Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/935700
Comments: 4
Kudos: 217





	Like Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> So this was nine months in the making and I'm ready to move onto other fic children now thank you

Seoul welcomes Mina’s return from Japan with an early snowfall. 

Nayeon thinks that everything fits, including the soft crunch under her boots as icy flakes blanket the ground in steady, lazy swirls. This isn’t the first freak flurry that’s hit the city this year, but it’s the only one she’d stay in for a minute longer before she steps into the coffee shop, if only to take in one last breath of fresh cold. 

Sana, face partially curtained by the steam from the two drinks in front of her, is sitting at a corner table instead of the group’s usual spot. The barista flashes Nayeon a smile all the same, and Nayeon returns it before sliding into the seat across from Sana.

They sit in silence for an entire two seconds before Sana lets out a giggle.

Nayeon cracks a smile, glancing out the window instead of at Sana’s faintly flushing face. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” says Sana, and the word hovers in the air between them. Nayeon is warm despite the melted snowflakes still clinging to her coat sleeve -- because she still doesn’t quite know what to make of the persistent jitter in her stomach that starts whenever she and Sana are alone together, even now.

She does know that they’re lucky, all of them, to still have such a close group for so long after finding jobs and otherwise settling into their futures; Nayeon’s sister is already melancholic about drifting apart from most of the friends she’d gone to high school with, and she’s barely started her first year of university. But Nayeon is lucky, because the eight people she’d gotten to know as a teenager are all still here, gathering at the same coffee shop at the same table every weekend. Mina usually joins by video call, all the way from Tokyo -- just a high-definition face on Sana’s tablet, but leagues better than not having her here at all.

“I can’t believe Mina’s coming back,” Sana says now. And Nayeon smiles as she brushes the flecks of water off of one elbow, because yes, Mina is coming back, for good. 

She picks up the mug Sana angles towards her. “She’s staying with you, right?”

“Just until she finds her own place,” says Sana. “Not that Momo and I mind having another flatmate, but it’s not a bad thing to live alone. Plus,” Sana leans close over the table, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Now that she’s a rich CEO, I’m sure she’ll only be looking at penthouses that we can throw some really amazing parties in.”

Nayeon laughs. “Yeah, she’s already asked me to show her some after she gets here. But I don’t think Mina will ever be a party person.”

“Not for most people,” Sana says, hiding her smile behind her own mug. “But it’s never been that hard for us to convince her, even back in high school.”

Nayeon remembers, too -- how Mina’s first sip of alcohol had been in the basement of Jeongyeon’s house, back when they refused to know better and had managed to con Seungyeon into looking the other way while Nayeon swiped two bottles of wine from the Yoos’ liquor cabinet. “Jeongyeon still won’t let me live it down,” Nayeon says now, looking at the drink cupped in her hands. “As if I’d thrown up all over her house instead of just in the bathroom.”

“You even made it all the way to the toilet,” Sana agrees. 

Nayeon nods, recalling the pounding of her heart in her temples from back then as a faded drumbeat lost under the hum of the coffee shop they’re sitting in: a faint rhythm to back the echoes of Jeongyeon’s half-drunken nags even as she’d left in search of warm tea and some air freshener. “Her bathroom still doesn’t have any floor mats. It was like sitting on actual ice, I swear.”

“Some things never change,” says Sana. “I’ve still never really seen Jihyo drunk. And Mina just gets a little redder.”

“She probably doesn’t flush at all now,” Nayeon says, thinking about how that night was the only time she’s ever seen Mina and Jihyo hand in hand.

“Anyway,” Sana continues, and Nayeon directs her attention back to how Sana’s mouth moves as she speaks. “You said you’d have a place for us to throw Mina’s welcome back party?”

Nayeon nods. “I have a listing that used to be a club space. They’ve got a bar and everything, so we just have to bring our own supplies. Jeong said she could get her dad to help with food, and Dahyun and Chaeyoung already volunteered to decorate.” 

“Perfect.” Sana claps her hands together. “It’ll be just like old times.”

“Right.” Nayeon glances out the window, watching as a snowflake sticks against the glass and starts to melt. “I wonder what has changed since then.”

Sana shrugs. “Mina is still the same, you know.”

Nayeon hums and gives the leftover coffee in her mug a swirl. She’d been at lunch with Jihyo and Sana when Mina had messaged the group chat, and Jihyo’s sudden poker face to Mina’s _I’m coming back!_ is permanently imprinted in her mind. “Jihyo is still the same, too.”

Sana pauses, and then shakes her head. “If they don’t talk about whatever it is between them, I swear I’m just going to push their heads together and hope for the best.”

Nayeon leans back. “Isn’t that what you did to Momo and Mina back in high school?”

“Yes, but not on purpose.” Sana rolls her eyes. “Momo’s always bragging about her being both of our first kisses, but I don’t think it counts if it’s food related.”

“It counts,” Nayeon teases. Her smile widens as she thinks of the afternoon she’d walked into the exchange student meeting room. All in all, it had been a pretty standard scene: Sana shrieking in either delight or disgust, Mina crouching on the floor with her red face buried in both hands, Momo standing with a stub of Pocky still hanging from her lips, and a wide-eyed Chou Tzuyu having an extremely eventful first day in Korea.

“Well,” Sana huffs as she plucks Nayeon’s mug from the older girl’s grasp, “the one I had with Momo definitely doesn’t, because we were just passing onion rings with our mouths.”

“What happens during summer camp game night, stays in summer camp game night,” Nayeon allows. Sana grins. She wraps both hands around the warm ceramic of Nayeon’s drink while Nayeon claims Sana’s. 

They pass the next hour or so easily, swapping coffee and _remember when_ s, until the mugs have long gone cold and the snow has piled into a thick blanket on the roads outside. Nayeon glances at the darkening sky. “Do you want to come over? Two more episodes of the new drama are going to be out tonight.” 

“Okay,” Sana chirps. She stands up and deposits both of their cups at the return counter. Nayeon is already waiting for her by the door, and the two of them exit together, the jingle from the bell above getting lost under the gust of wind that blows in. 

The bus isn’t due for another ten minutes. Nayeon has her gloves on, but still feels the need to shove her hands deep into the pockets of her puffy coat. She glances at Sana, who is in the middle of pulling her sleeves over her fists.

Nayeon lets out a huff, a small cloud of breath that fizzles into the air even though her half-hearted indignance lingers. “I can’t believe it’s this cold out, and you didn’t even think to bring gloves.”

“I forget about these things,” Sana says. “We’re just waiting for the bus, anyway. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Here.”

Sana blinks down at the single glove in Nayeon’s now uncovered hand. “Don’t you need this?”

“Just take it. Put it on.” Nayeon nods. “There. And now,” Nayeon takes Sana’s bare right hand in her left and tucks them both into her coat pocket, “here we go.”

“Oh,” says Sana, and it comes out in its own puff of condensation against the lazy flurry falling from above. Inside the pocket, Nayeon’s fingers wrap a little more firmly around hers. _Do you like it?_

Sana tucks her nose into her scarf and smiles as she squeezes back.

_I like it._

-

Mina walks out of customs and through the arrival gate. She barely registers the airport buzz as her eyes settle on eight faces, larger than life, beaming back at her.

She can’t remember who hugs her first -- Sana and Momo were definitely in the front, but Dahyun may have been slick enough to slip by them at the very last moment. It doesn’t really matter in the end, of course. Because soon enough she has familiar chatter in her ears, laughter wrapping around her as surely as the tangle of arms and smiles she couldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

Jeongyeon tries to usher the group towards the exit. As they shuffle along, Mina catches sight of Jihyo bouncing in her periphery once in a while, smiling so widely that her eyes are always closed.

It had snowed the day before, but today the roads are clear as Mina loads her luggage into the trunk of Nayeon’s car. There isn’t quite enough room for everything to fit, so Mina finds herself in the backseat with Momo, one of her bags taking up the middle between them. Sana is in the passenger seat, and leans forward to press play on a cheesy Christmas CD when Nayeon tells her to. It should be autumn still, really, but the white frosted over the city outside the car window makes Mina chime in once in a while as Nayeon belts every lyric at the top of her lungs.

After they get to the apartment, Momo insists that they share a bed instead of Mina taking the living room couch. Sana piles under Momo’s comforter that first night, too, but ends up sleeping at Nayeon’s for each of the next few days; the two always hang out after work and never seem to notice the time until it’s too late for Sana to take the train home. 

The welcome back party Nayeon and the others insist on throwing Mina is scheduled for the coming weekend. Until then, Mina occupies herself catching each of her friends for lunch or coffee or dinner, slowly coloring in the outlines of their lives she’d sketched for herself over years of video calls and text messages.

It’s nice to be back.

One night, Sana and Momo take her to see a movie from the one film director all three of them like. Nayeon texts afterwards, asking if they want to come over and watch drama reruns. Momo and Mina have had enough screen time for the night, but Sana agrees to join the imminent marathon. Momo can’t seem to fathom why Sana would want to go over when she’d complained of her eyes hurting only minutes earlier, but Mina only smiles as she asks to take Sana’s bed.

After they return to the apartment, Momo offers to make them some hot chocolate. Mina agrees, looking down when her phone buzzes.

She barely glances at Jihyo’s _sorry, work has me staying late today_. Sana and Jihyo work in the same office, and there will never be a day when Sana finishes enough to leave while Jihyo has to stay back. But this is hardly the first time since Mina’s returned that Jihyo has made an excuse not to meet. So Mina flips her phone over just as Momo comes in with two steaming mugs.

Momo sets down the drinks, smiling when Mina looks up at her. “What?”

Mina doesn’t say anything for a moment. But then she glances away. “Are you mad at me? For leaving?”

She doesn’t catch Momo’s stare, instead wrapping her arms around herself and shrinking further into the back of her chair when she doesn’t hear an immediate answer. Then Momo steps forward, reaching out with one hand to pry Mina’s fingers loose. “We could never be mad at you, Mitang. You need to know that.”

“I do know,” Mina says, but her chest doesn’t feel so heavy now. She tries not to relax too much into the hug Momo pulls her into, each beat of her heart lifting higher with every pat Momo lands softly on her head. “I’m still sorry.”

“Sorry?” says Momo. “Sorry for what?”

Mina turns her head, her answer muffled slightly by Momo’s shirt. “For leaving. I shouldn’t have. I missed everyone too much.”

“We missed you too much, too,” Momo says, quiet. “But you shouldn’t feel bad for leaving.”

Mina thinks about her phone lying on the table, and angles her body further away from it and further into Momo’s hug. “I do, though. It feels like I made everything needlessly complicated.”

“It’s never going to be easy with the nine of us,” Momo says, fondness coloring her tone. “You know how it is, Mitang.”

Mina laughs a little. “I guess I do.”

“Try the hot chocolate,” Momo suggests after some moments, and Mina giggles before reaching for her cup. Momo gives her one last squeeze before sitting down beside her, blowing on the liquid in her own mug. 

The chocolate is still a bit too hot, but it’s lukewarm by the time they’ve finished sitting in comfortable silence. Warm and sleepy, Mina takes the cups to wash in the kitchen. 

Momo peeks in. “Leave it for tomorrow. Let’s go to bed.”

“I’m taking Sana-unnie’s bed tonight,” Mina says, barely drying her hands before Momo takes her elbow and tugs her away.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot that Sana’s sleeping at Nayeon-unnie’s again,” Momo says, and Mina wonders whether the significance of this recent development has really flown entirely over Momo’s head. Momo turns and pouts. “But are you saying you’d rather go to bed alone than with me?” 

Then again, Momo is the kind of person who thinks a first kiss is only a big deal if a second one follows, and it’s not the worst thing to think less on subjects that already require too much thought. Mina feels the weight of her phone in her pocket, but waits until Momo’s fast asleep before she dares to unlock it. She writes, _that’s okay! maybe later this week_ , and spends the next ten minutes agonizing over which emoticon would be appropriate to tack onto the end.

-

“How are you feeling?”

Jihyo spares Sana a glance before she returns to her laptop. “Like we have two more hours before lunch break, so we should probably keep working.”

“This is work-related,” Sana says as she kicks her chair further out of her own cubicle and slides towards Jihyo. “I won’t let you work until you answer me.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes and sits back, lifting her hands from her keyboard to rest them in her lap. “Why do you think that I should be feeling something?”

Sana raises her eyebrows. “You know exactly why.” Jihyo scoffs, and Sana sighs. “Okay, fine, let’s do it your way.” She plasters a smile on and pitches her voice a few steps higher, dragging out her syllables as long as comprehensibly possible. “ _Hey_ , Jihyo, did you know that Mina is back in town?”

Jihyo clicks her tongue, leaning away from Sana. “Alright, enough with the theatrics. I was at the airport too, you know. Yes, Mina is back, and I’m very happy about it, just like the rest of us are. Is that what you want?”

“Are you though?” The wheels on Sana’s chair squeak as she shifts closer. “Happy?”

Jihyo crosses her arms. “It’s not like Mina and I have fallen out or anything. Actually, we talk almost every day.”

“Sure you do.” Sana leans her elbows on the armrest nearest to Jihyo. “But you don’t really.”

“We do,” Jihyo insists. “End of story.” Sana says nothing, and Jihyo throws her head back slightly as she groans. “Seriously, Sana, stop it. Aren’t we too old to be doing this? I don’t even like Mina that way anymore.”

“No,” says Sana solemnly. “You like her much, much more, now.”

A younger Sana would have shivered at the glare Jihyo throws at her. But they’ve been working in the same office since graduating university, and this is far from the first time Jihyo has wanted to murder Sana using just her eyes. So Sana keeps staring, and Jihyo resigns to pulling her chair in closer to her desk and adjusting her laptop screen. “I’ve answered your question, so let’s both just do our jobs now, alright?”

“Fine.” Sana sits back. “I’ll leave you alone,” she pauses, “if you look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m wrong.”

Jihyo stills, fingers perched perfectly on the keyboard like she’s a world-class concert pianist taking a breath before the first note. And then she does inhale before turning to meet Sana’s gaze. “You’re wrong. I don’t like her anymore. We’re just friends.”

Sana stares back. The wall clock above them ticks away, steady as time, and Jihyo doesn’t blink once. Sana clears her throat. “Okay,” she says lightly. “If you say so.”

Jihyo only nods before going back to her spreadsheets. Sana, meanwhile, stares at her own screen and its flashing cursor, remembering the last time Jihyo’s eyes had looked that dark and dull, like she’d fallen into a pit she wasn’t even going to try and climb out of.

Four years ago, Mina had been catching a redeye to Tokyo; against her insistence that all eight of them didn’t have to send her off in the wee hours before sunrise, they’d done it anyway. But moments after she disappeared into the throng of travelers just past security, Jihyo had turned to press her face into Nayeon’s shoulder. _We’re supposed to stay together_ , she’d said, voice steady as a house hiding a fractured foundation. _No one is supposed to leave._

Nayeon had looked at Sana then, eyes big and sad as her fingers combed through Jihyo’s tousled hair. Sana watched as Nayeon’s lips moved, a silent question passing between them.

But Sana hadn’t known what to tell Jihyo then, either. 

Then Momo had leaned into Sana, tucking her face under Sana’s chin. _I think I’m a bad friend_ , Sana remembers Momo admitting into the crook of her neck. _How can I support Mitang if all I want is for her to come back?_

Fortunately, Momo hadn’t been looking for an answer. So Sana had looked again at Jihyo, limp and silent in Nayeon’s hold. But over the incessant buzz of the airport going about its business in the darkest hours of the morning, Sana heard the first break in Jihyo’s monotony. 

_She isn’t supposed to leave me._

It had taken a while to settle fully under Sana’s skin: that sort of -- _Oh, so this is how it feels_ \-- every time she noticed the hole Jeongyeon had rubbed through the hem of her favorite shirt, or after paging through another notebook Chaeyoung had filled with sketches of dark, nameless masses Sana pretended not to understand. It settled and then twisted, choking the laughs out of the jokes Dahyun was trying so hard to push into smiles, and stinging whenever Tzuyu ducked stoically out of her hugs because _unnie, I’m fine, don’t worry about me_ , before she excused herself to the bathroom and returned red-eyed afterwards.

And now, four years later, Sana sits in a cubicle, trying to think through the numbness that creeps back into her ears and drowns out everything but the feverish tapping of Jihyo’s keyboard. It doesn’t help that Jihyo refuses to look in her direction for the next two hours. 

_Oh_ , Sana thinks again. _So this is how it feels to have a crack in your heart._

Sana makes it up to Jihyo by inviting her to the cafe across the street for lunch. Then Nayeon texts in the afternoon, asking if Sana is free to stay over that night. Another flurry whisks into the city just as Sana clocks out for the day, and she ends up stamping new footprints into the fresh snow dusting the walkway outside of Nayeon’s apartment building. Nayeon greets her with a fluffy blanket and space heater plugged in by the couch, and Sana can’t help the soft sigh she lets out as she falls into Nayeon’s waiting arms.

They’ve finished a box of takeout and two episodes into whatever primetime drama is on Nayeon’s channel of choice today when Nayeon shifts. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Jihyo’s not taking it well,” says Sana after a moment. “I don’t know what will happen when she sees Mina again. You know, with just the two of them.”

“Oh.” Nayeon hums, and then reaches for the remote to lower the volume on the television. “Jihyo’s an idiot, if I’ve ever seen one. But she’ll be alright. Mina, too. They’ll do it, somehow -- figure out whatever they are, and whatever they want to be.”

Sana brings herself closer, tucking her head under Nayeon’s chin. “You think so?”

“I think so,” Nayeon says, running her fingers through Sana’s hair.

Sana can’t help it when her eyelids flutter. “Unnie, what are we?”

Nayeon maybe looks away from the couple staring at each other on screen -- it’s hard for Sana to tell because she really doesn’t want to lift her head from its very comfortable spot on Nayeon’s chest. “We’re something. At least, I want to be.”

“It would be nice,” Sana agrees, and feels Nayeon’s chin press into her hair as the older girl nods. “But I don’t know if we should be, yet.”

The male lead says something sappy, and the girl in front of him tears up -- Sana can’t remember if she’s the main character or the other corner of the love triangle. And then Nayeon says, “Yeah, it doesn’t feel right, yet.”

“Maybe it’ll feel right, later,” Sana offers. She blinks when a second guy appears in frame. She doesn’t remember him, but apparently he’s the long-lost cousin of the main girl -- not the one currently crying, it turns out. “I’m sorry, unnie. I just can’t stop worrying about them.”

“They have time.” Nayeon hums. “And we have time. We’ll wait, okay? For just the right moment, with just the right lighting. And then I’ll ask you, and it’ll be the best thing I’ll ever do.”

The cousin reveals that the main girl has been trampled under a crowd of cyclists in the middle of a triathlon, just minutes after getting diagnosed with leukemia. Nayeon mutters something about not knowing whether she wants to laugh or to cry, and Sana can’t hold back a giggle.

Nayeon’s chin rests on the top of her head again. “What?”

“Nothing,” says Sana, curling in even closer as her eyelids droop shut. She spends the night dreaming of Nayeon’s heartbeat.

-

“Do you think Jihyo will ever forgive me?”

Nayeon pauses in the middle of the open kitchen space. Leave it to Mina to wait until now to ask her something like this -- when they’re thirty floors above the ground of Seoul, surrounded by the sleekest state-of-the-art appliances and more windows than Nayeon has probably ever seen in her entire life. Still, Nayeon manages to collect herself enough to say, “You haven’t done anything that needs forgiveness.”

“Maybe not,” says Mina, running fingertips along the cool edge of the spotless marble countertop. “But it would be nice to have it, anyway.”

“So you still like her,” Nayeon says.

Mina lets the phrase settle. Then her fingers lose their purchase, sliding off the marble to hang by her side. “I’ve never tried not to.”

Nayeon can’t hold back a sigh, and it empties her. “Jihyo’s been trying not to for years.”

“I know.” Mina folds her arms, hands curling to grasp her own waist as she hugs herself. It’s an echo of their last year of high school, when they were all at Jeongyeon’s house watching yet another movie about some girl falling for her best friend; Mina and Jihyo had sat next to each other the entire time, shoulders stiff and not daring to move a single muscle until the credits rolled. 

Nayeon steps forward, tugging at Mina’s grip. “Have you talked with her yet?”

Mina shrugs. “We haven’t met after the airport. She seems busy.” Which is a standard Jihyo evasion tactic; for however upfront she usually is, Jihyo has always been just as great at not admitting to feelings.

“It’ll be okay.” Nayeon pulls Mina close. She catches a whiff of the perfume that Mina’s wearing -- light but present, a perfect accompaniment to how Mina carries herself now in well-tailored blazers and sleek sharp heels. It’s different from the sweeter scent Mina used to wear in high school, and the brief citrus-tinted phase she went through during university. It’s different, and Nayeon is only realizing this now.

“I just need it to be okay,” Mina agrees, tucking her face into Nayeon’s shoulder. “But I think it also means that I have to tell her.”

Nayeon pauses. She thinks about how Mina has always had the words, but only now also the voice to say them with, and she thinks about how Jihyo likes to keep everyone at a distance, if only so no one will see her cry. Nayeon hugs Mina closer. “Yeah, I think you should.”

“Okay,” Mina says against the collar of Nayeon’s shirt.

“Okay,” says Nayeon. She rubs Mina’s back briskly, trying to remember if Mina was this thin when she’d left. “Who knows,” Nayeon adds. “Maybe something has changed.”

“Maybe,” Mina says. 

They stand together, quiet, Mina breathing and Nayeon watching the bright green colon on the digital oven clock blink away the seconds. Then Mina steps back a little and smiles. “Thank you, unnie.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nayeon murmurs, and gives Mina one last squeeze.

Mina nods, and then turns to give the kitchen another onceover. “I like this apartment, by the way.”

“You do?” Nayeon drops her arms and looks around, too. “Enough to pay the listed price?”

“I’ll have to bargain at least a little,” Mina says. “Your agency is still trying to rip me off.”

“But my commission,” Nayeon insists as she follows Mina out of the kitchen. “I’ll treat you to a nice dinner after.”

“Or I could just take you out for dinner now,” Mina suggests. Then she turns to raise her eyebrows at Nayeon. “Unless you’re going out with Sana-unnie later?”

“We haven’t made plans yet,” Nayeon says without thinking. “Sure, let’s invite her, too.”

“No thank you,” says Mina. “I’d hate to third-wheel so soon after coming back to Seoul.” 

Nayeon almost smacks into the doorframe they’re walking through. “What?”

“What?” Mina echoes. “You think that I wouldn’t notice that two of my favorite unnies are seeing each other now?”

“We’re the favorite unnies? I have bad news for Momo and Jeongyeon then,” Nayeon manages to say as she tries to regain her bearings. 

“They’re my other two favorite unnies, the ones who don’t happen to be sneaking around under everyone else’s noses,” Mina says lightly. “It’s sort of obvious actually, with how Sana is always spending the evening at yours.”

“Only because we don’t want to bother you or Momo when we hang out,” Nayeon says weakly. “You just moved back, and you know how grumpy Momo gets when she doesn’t sleep at least twelve hours.”

“Right,” Mina nods. “Neither of you seem like you’d be very quiet, so I appreciate you taking it out of the apartment.”

Nayeon’s jaw drops. “Miss Myoui, what exactly are you implying?”

“So,” Mina says easily, eyes twinkling, and Nayeon swears the devil will never look so smug, “how’d it happen?”

“Oh. I don’t know,” Nayeon pauses, and then shrugs. “It just sort of did. One night we were sitting next to each other, and then we both thought it might not be the worst thing to try kissing. And then we both liked it, so why ruin a good thing that we both enjoy?”

“Just like that, huh?” Mina muses. 

“Just like that,” Nayeon agrees.

“I’m happy for you, unnie,” says Mina, wrapping Nayeon in a brief hug. “We all would be, whenever you’re ready to tell us.”

“Right,” Nayeon finds herself murmuring into Mina’s hair, and Mina thankfully leaves it at that.

Sana can’t get away from work before dinner, but Chaeyoung and Dahyun agree to meeting when Nayeon sends the invite to the rest of the group. The four of them sit in the restaurant Tzuyu recommends that they try, and the roads are cleared of that morning’s snowfall by the time they walk out again. Nayeon takes the short walk back to her apartment and lounges on her couch until Sana knocks on the door for their nightly drama watching.

“Mina knows about us,” Nayeon announces during the first commercial break. 

Sana’s head is resting in Nayeon’s lap, but she shifts so that she’s looking up at Nayeon. “What do you mean, Mina knows?”

Nayeon shrugs. “She asked me out of the blue, earlier today, about when we’d gotten together. And I didn’t really know how to answer, at least at first.”

Sana hums. “Why’s that? Because we haven’t made it official?”

“I’ll ask you soon,” Nayeon promises, bringing up Sana’s hand and pressing a quick kiss onto the back of it. “I guess it’s one thing to say when we acknowledged our feelings, but another to say when we actually started to have them.”

“That’s true.” Sana grins up at her. “Because I bet I started liking you way before you started liking me.”

“You did not,” says Nayeon, crossing her arms. “I’ve liked you since the day you transferred to our high school. You can even ask Jeongyeon how stupidly smitten I was.”

“Crushing doesn’t count,” Sana insists. “You didn’t even know my name then. How would you know whether you actually liked me as a person?”

Nayeon huffs. “Fine. Then it would have to be,” she pauses, staring up at the ceiling as she lets Sana idly play with her fingers. “After our first round of university exams. I’d just finished all of mine, and you invited me out for udon. Then I got to the restaurant and saw Momo was there too, and I was disappointed for maybe a second because I’d been thinking it would be just the two of us.”

Sana rolls her eyes. “It should have been. But Momo, who on all other occasions insisted on being the most annoying wingwoman in history, heard her favorite restaurant and just invited herself along.” Sana drops Nayeon’s hand in favor of waving her own as she pitches her voice higher. “ ‘But Satang, it’s two-for-one tonight! You can share the deal with unnie and I’ll get another set for myself. Everybody wins!’”

Nayeon laughs. “Anyway, I sat down across from you and you handed me the menu. And all of a sudden I realized why I’d felt that way.”

“Yeah?” The smile on Sana’s face spreads to her eyes, and Nayeon has to remember to take a breath.

Nayeon pokes Sana’s nose. “Yeah. But what’s this about Momo wanting to be your wingwoman? She never seemed that interested in your potential relationships.” 

“Well,” says Sana, “It’s because I already liked you before that.” 

Nayeon raises her eyebrows. “You did?” 

“Yup,” Sana says proudly. “A whole two weeks before those exams, when we were studying at the library together? You dozed off on your textbook, and I almost didn’t wake you up at all because you looked too cute sleeping.”

Nayeon narrows her eyes. “So you were just staring at me the entire time? That’s creepy.”

Sana pouts. “No, it wasn’t. It was very wholesome and romantic. There might even have been a sunbeam shining on all your best features, just like in all the movies.”

Nayeon chuckles. “Alright, if you say so.” 

Sana shifts again, twisting a little more to catch Nayeon’s gaze. “So what do you like about me, exactly?” 

Nayeon shrugs as she runs a hand through Sana’s hair. “That’s a pretty hard question.”

Sana hums as Nayeon’s fingertips rub gently against her scalp. “Then think about it before you give me an answer.”

“It’s pretty easy to think of things I _don’t_ like about you,” Nayeon offers, and then laughs when Sana swats at her arm. “Like how you’re always trying to goof off even when everyone else isn’t in the mood. Learn to read a room, would you?”

“Maybe I’m trying to get everyone else _into_ the mood,” Sana huffs. She pulls Nayeon’s palm back to a comfortable rest on the top of her head. 

The fingers of Nayeon’s other hand trace along wherever Sana’s collarbone peeks out from under the neck of her shirt. “Or how you always eat whatever food I was saving in the refrigerator.”

“What’s mine is yours,” says Sana, eyelids fluttering as Nayeon draws lazy patterns onto the skin just above where her heart beats warm and slow. “That was a fact even before all of this.”

Nayeon chuckles. “And remember when you used to flirt with all the boys tripping over themselves for you, even though you were never even a little bit interested?” 

“I could have been,” Sana grumbles. She whines until Nayeon stops shaking from the laughter she’s still trying to push down. “Besides, that was all the way back in high school.”

“And university,” says Nayeon. “And also the first year or two after we graduated. Actually, remember that new barista down at the coffee shop a few months back who mysteriously quit after he realized you gave him a fake number?”

“That was just coincidental timing,” Sana says. “And we got free coffee for a week. The point is, I don’t do it _anymore_.”

“Right.” Nayeon glances down. Sana’s eyes open, and for a moment Nayeon thinks that they must be cramming for exams again. Because there’s no other explanation for how looking at Sana still shoots stars straight through Nayeon’s veins -- the rush of wanting to know every cog of what makes Sana tick, and wishing desperately for an entire lifetime to do it.

“Right,” Sana echoes, drowsiness curling at the corners of her smile. But then she nudges at Nayeon’s elbow, resting comfortably below her ribcage. “Alright then, what do you _like_ about me?”

Nayeon hums, pretending to think for a few moments. “It’s sort of a secret.”

“My lips are sealed,” Sana promises. So Nayeon leans down.

“To be honest,” Nayeon murmurs above Sana’s ear, “I don’t really know why I like you, at all.”

Sana grins, eyes suddenly alive and dancing. Nayeon sits back as Sana props herself up. And just before she kisses Nayeon soundly on the lips, Sana says, “That’s okay. I don’t really know why I like you, either.”

-

Jihyo arrives four hours early to Mina’s welcome back party to help set it up. The first thing she steps on when she walks into the empty club space is almost Dahyun, but the younger woman fortunately moves her hand away in time.

Jihyo blinks at the scatter of items on the floor. Then she glances at Dahyun. “What in the world are you doing?”

“You’d never know,” says Dahyun. “I could be doing anything. Maybe this is a very artistic piece, me sprawled out on the floor, clearly in disarray, amongst a mess of the very objects that are supposed to be keeping my life together.”

“Or,” Jihyo says, “you were carrying a big box of paper clips, and then you tripped.”

Dahyun shifts, the tinkling of lightweight metal sliding against the linoleum accompanying the arc of her arms as she reaches up to tuck her hands behind her head. “Or that.”

Jihyo laughs, and then reaches down to help the other woman up. “What do you even need all of these for? I thought you and Chaeng were decorating.”

“We are.” Dahyun sweeps an arm around the room. “We’re paper clipping balloons to all the tablecloths.”

“Please stop them,” Nayeon says over her shoulder as she whisks by. “Jeongyeon isn’t here to tell them that we have no tablecloths.”

Somehow, by the time Mina arrives, the rest of them have managed to arrange the food, figure out how to work the lighting, and decide on the playlist; Jihyo takes an extra moment to appreciate the ball pit Chaeyoung and Dahyun have somehow fit snugly into a back corner of the room.

Jihyo talks to Mina with Nayeon and Jeongyeon first, and then later gets pulled by Tzuyu and Dahyun into a cats-versus-dogs conversation that Mina bears amusing witness to. It’s not that hard to look over and meet Mina’s eyes every once in a while, or lean in close and yell something into her ear over the pounding bass Chaeyoung has recently turned up. But then Mina catches Jihyo’s gaze another time, her brow now furrowing in the way that Jihyo knows means she’s made a difficult decision. 

Jihyo had spent all day training her heartbeat for many things, but Mina taking her hand and weaving her through the club floor to the backroom of the bar is not one of them. Jihyo’s blood thuds loudly in her ears, even over the gratuitous bass, and then they’re in the backroom. Mina closes the door, shutting out the music and most of Nayeon’s exhilarated yelling. 

“It’s a lot quieter in here,” Jihyo says after a few moments, and fervently wishes it wouldn’t be.

Mina presses her lips into a thin line. She lets Jihyo’s hands drop from hers before releasing a long exhale, cheeks puffing as she does so. Then she says, “Jihyo.”

Jihyo’s tongue wins over the panic her brain has tripped into, so it answers before she can think too much about how long it’s been since she’s heard Mina call her name. “Yeah?”

“I like you,” says Mina. 

“I like you too,” Jihyo says on reflex; it was one of the first Korean phrases she’d taught Mina back in high school. She thinks back to that day more often than she’d admit to: how her homeroom teacher had introduced Myoui Mina, a new transfer student from Japan. Jihyo had had just enough time to think that this was exactly how all the Japanese cartoons Jeongyeon made her watch start out, before the teacher had called on the class president -- Park Jihyo, of course -- to accompany Mina until she adjusted fully to her new school.

 _I like you_ , Jihyo had confirmed without really meaning to, whether over scribbles of half-completed homework or the long-but-not-long-enough years leading up to their university graduation. It rang true even across the entire stretch of ocean waving quietly in between them, the only constant fragment in their conversations over the past four years. 

“Jihyo.” Mina steps closer. Jihyo sees the shine of something in Mina’s eyes that she’s not sure she’s ready for. “I mean it.”

Jihyo retreats in time. It’s a familiar choreography she and Mina have been shuffling along to for so long, but now the truth twists sharply beneath their feet. “No.” She shakes her head -- just a slight sway of her chin at first. Then it stutters into violent jerks as she continues to step back. “No. No, you don’t.”

“I do,” Mina insists, and it’s stupid how Jihyo can still hear everything over the heavy rush of white noise in her ears. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And I’ve wanted to tell you, but I was just always so afraid, and --”

“You don’t,” Jihyo cuts in. She meets Mina’s eyes with a glare, and the fire sizzling in her stomach scorches a new path through her limbs when Mina’s gentle gaze cracks. Her fists clench. “You _can’t_ , Mina. You can’t do this.”

Mina stands perfect and still. “Jihyo.”

“You can’t,” says Jihyo again, knuckles tightening and fingernails pinching into her palms. But her name on Mina’s lips is all that it takes. The fire is out as quickly as it had sparked, leaving a burn in the back of her throat and a sting at the corners of her eyes. “You aren’t allowed to.”

Mina swallows, but Jihyo can’t hear it. She doesn’t want to hear it, or anything that comes out in the tune of Mina’s shaking voice: “Why not?”

“Because,” Jihyo says, her teeth grinding painfully together. But she prefers the stiffness in her jaw to the creaking of her heart, struggling to beat in spite of how much she tries to strangle it back into silence. “Because I let it happen once before.” She exhales. “And I can’t let it happen again.”

And there -- it’s out. Jihyo doesn’t quite know what to make of the new emptiness in her chest. But the ache is less now, her heart a little less frantic in the ensuing silence.

“Jihyo.” When Mina steps closer this time, Jihyo doesn’t step back. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jihyo says, and it’s true. “It’s not something to be sorry for.”

“But I’m sorry anyway,” says Mina. She stops just in front of Jihyo, toes aligned perfectly against the invisible boundary she won’t bring herself to cross. “I made things difficult. Maybe they were always going to be, but I made them difficult in this specific way, specifically for you.” Mina takes a breath, her shoulders rising with the air rushing into her lungs. “And I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Jihyo whispers. Mina’s eyes are wide and wet, and suddenly Jihyo can’t take it anymore. She closes the distance -- almost steps on Mina’s toes -- and Mina falls into her hold faster than any gravity can pull. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“You definitely don’t get to be sorry,” Mina grumbles; it’s muffled by Jihyo’s shoulder, and Mina has never been truly cross with Jihyo, anyway. 

“I could have said something.” Jihyo rubs Mina’s back, closing her eyes as she tries to remember the last time they’d hugged like this. She knows it hadn’t been when Mina had left for Japan, because this time she’s a little less afraid of not being able to let go. “I should have said something. Maybe not in high school, because I wasn’t so sure then. But university, I could have, and I didn’t. All of those years and I still let us get hurt, just because I didn’t want to say something.”

“Either of us could have said anything,” says Mina. “Anything, and we wouldn’t be here right now. I would never have left, or we wouldn’t have spent all of these years talking, but not really talking. Maybe we could have been happy like Nayeon-unnie and Sana-unnie --”

Jihyo raises her eyebrows. “What about Sana and Nayeon-unnie?”

Mina hesitates, and then shakes her head. “Nothing. You should ask them.” 

“Okay,” Jihyo laughs, and then closes her eyes again. “But none of that matters. Because we could go anywhere else from here, now.”

“Right,” Mina says, and tightens her grip around Jihyo’s waist.

Jihyo clears her throat. “Hey, Mina.” Mina hums, and Jihyo’s eyes flutter open. “I like you, too.”

Mina pulls back quickly, just enough to catch and hold Jihyo’s gaze one more time. Her smile widens, and Jihyo forgets. Gone are the nights spent trying to fall asleep instead of wondering whether her phone will light up with one more text. Erased are the hours passed thinking that maybe Mina has only limited space in her heart, and this new friend she’s telling everyone about will be the one to finally push Jihyo out. Jihyo forgets it all in the space of a smile, and she wants nothing more than to kiss Mina -- 

But maybe not, yet.

Mina takes another step back, out of Jihyo’s arms. But she’s still beaming, and she feels closer, somehow, than when they’d been hugging just a minute before. “Should we rejoin everyone, then?”

Mina tightens her grip, and Jihyo looks down at her hand in Mina’s. She grins. “That ball pit looked pretty fun, actually.”

“Let’s go,” says Mina, and tugs Jihyo towards the door.

The music is still on full blast when they step into the club room again. Chaeyoung is working the lights, making them flash different shades of purple and green. Momo has found the microphone by the karaoke machine with origins as mysterious as the ball pit, and yells into it for Tzuyu to stop standing by the snack table and come over, preferably with snacks from said table.

Then Nayeon plucks the microphone from Momo’s hand, and Jihyo can already tell that she’s drunk because her grin is lopsided and she’s practically hanging off of an equally giddy Sana’s shoulders. But somehow, Nayeon still manages to lock gazes with Jihyo from across the room. 

Nayeon stares for one second, then two, glancing at Mina and then back at Jihyo. And even from where she’s standing, Jihyo can see the shine in Nayeon’s eyes, clear and proud.

Then Nayeon raises the mic to her mouth and says, “Guess who my girlfriend is?”

Sana catches on first, and immediately pulls Nayeon’s face to hers. They’re two seconds in before Momo reclaims the microphone and tells them that there’s a backroom for those sorts of activities. The song changes and Chaeyoung adds some pink to the lights dancing across the floor, cackling at the two older girls stumbling off the stage, tangled in each other. 

“Come on,” Jihyo says, and pulls Mina to the ball pit in the corner. It’s actually less of a pit and more like an inflatable pool, because they have to climb three steps to stand at its edge. Jihyo turns to look at Mina standing behind her. “So how is it, being so rich and successful and a future penthouse owner?” she asks, and it doesn’t hurt to joke anymore. 

Mina laughs, eyes dancing in the purple light. “It’s better, now.”

“Yeah?” Jihyo asks.

“Yeah.” Mina chuckles again, nudging Jihyo in the shoulder with her own. Jihyo takes her cue, tipping backwards into the pit.

Mina falls in after, still holding Jihyo’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @moonrise31 almost everywhere; it's pretty embarrassing, really


End file.
